


Star-Crossed Lovers

by naivety



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light-Hearted, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naivety/pseuds/naivety
Summary: “I didn’t read it. But it’s nearly full, right?” He whispered, caressing the blue cover with the tip of his fingers. I felt myself swallowing hard, as I sighed softly, trying to think about anything that I could say that would make him feel better. Make myself feel better. When my legs finally stop being frozen in one place, I finish getting downstairs, hugging him from behind. His body was rigid and slightly curved, as if he was scared. And sad. My poor lonely Doctor.♡ COMPLETE STORY ♡





	Star-Crossed Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written a long time ago, but just now I had the courage to publish it. It wasn't beta'd, so I hope you forgive any mistakes.

I never meant for us to end up being one of the most stupid human’s clichés ever.

She liked to call us star-crossed lovers. No, she loved to call us star-crossed lovers. Like one of our own jokes on why we couldn’t keep together as long as we wanted to. Do you even know what star-crossed lovers mean? Obviously, other than what you think you hear Taylor Swift singing? (Side note: Starbucks lovers always sounded way cooler, trust me, I am the Doctor.)

Interesting fact, it was my dude Shakespeare one of the first to use this expression in Romeo and Juliet, or how he loved to call them “A pair of star-crossed lovers”. Yeah, not that I ever finished reading it, I was too busy saving the universe from Daleks or simply thinking about Song. And when everything was quiet enough and I actually had time to think… to analyze the book… let’s just say it was easier to go back in time and ask Shakespeare himself how it ended and why someone would kill themselves after falling in love in two days.

He didn’t appreciate my presence that much after this.

Don’t get me wrong: I understand the human inclination to love. Not love in the sense many races do, but rather in this romantic concept where you can’t exist with your loved one. This my friends, this obsession mixed with fear of failure and deeply worry about someone other than yourself, while wanting to bed them, this is something only humans had shown me. The universe is composed of thousands of races that understand love, and pursue love, but never, ever, I had found creatures so capable of mixing different sensations and feelings and obsessions all in one single sentiment.

And it would remain like a nice admiration, another admiration for the human race if last night I hadn’t woken up and caught myself feeling exactly like this.  
I think I am simply spending too much time with humans, after all.

I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling her moving in that languid way she always does during her sleep. The sheets had just slipped past the skin of her shoulder, her soft brunette hair against the pillows. Once I had to share a bed with Winston Churchill (yep, better not ask how we ended up like this) after a night of drinking and discussing the future of the Nazis, and the prime minister moved on his sleep. Not moved, shook himself like a damn boat in the middle of the storm. I had decided that night that I would never again put myself in that position, and every time I needed to sleep with someone on the same bed, I would simply ask beforehand: Do you move in your sleep?

That is why this whole thing seemed even crazier. The fact she had woke me up while turning on the bed didn’t even make me mad. I just extended my hand to lovingly caress her hair, feeling the softness of it against my hands as I tried to focus. She would leave again, very soon, and I couldn’t do much about it. I had never got so attached to someone this quickly. Because people always left, got mad or ended up dying. My job was to keep as many as I could happy and alive, thank you very much. That is why not growing attached was important: it kept my hearts from suffering. And the universe knew, my hearts couldn’t suffer any more than they had already done.  
Like that incredible and inspiring cartoon philosopher liked to sing: Let it go.

 

***

 

I wasn’t someone romantic.

Not that I wasn’t able to admire the romance, but to be sincere I never imagined I could do romantic things to the degree I do when I am around him. Because it is easier to protect yourself making you sounding cold and distant enough, while slightly superior, so people don’t get to notice what you really feel inside. How you are really inside. But then, he got into my life and made everything complicated. My star-crossed lover. Someone I couldn’t be with, but also, couldn’t be without.

As always, when I woke up that morning he wasn’t there. Not that he left me in the middle of the night, obviously not. But when our days together were beginning to fade, he avoided keeping in bed to see me wake up. He said it was his way of starting to get used to the fact I wouldn’t be around anymore. It was deeply sad like it always was when he lost a companion, either to their lives or to death. And each time I left, it was worse. Because each time I left, I also left a bigger part of me behind.

I was afraid someday the part left behind with the Doctor would be bigger than the one inside of me.

I dressed the blue-ish robe, my robe, that was always hung behind the door, just by the black robe. His black robe. I got downstairs, passing by the library and the pool (although all the books now were happily bathing in the pool, thanks to his last trip). When I finally got to the HQ, how I liked to refer his control and core of Tardis, he was looking down at my journal, that I had left just near the main controls of Tardis.

“I didn’t read it. But it’s nearly full, right?” He whispered, caressing the blue cover with the tip of his fingers. I felt myself swallowing hard, as I sighed softly, trying to think about anything that I could say that would make him feel better. Make myself feel better. When my legs finally stop being frozen in one place, I finish getting downstairs, hugging him from behind. His body was rigid and slightly curved as if he was scared. And sad.

My poor lonely Doctor.

Sad.

He had never clarified why he asked so much about my journal every time we met. But after a few times, I simply began to understand it meant our relationship would end when my journal ended. He didn’t have any other reason to be so focused on how many pages it had unless it meant that much. I tried to keep acting as if I didn’t know. Because it was what he wanted: to ignore the truth that was just in front of his nose.

I place a kiss on his shoulder, trying to take a deep breath as I consider all the things I could say to him. I could tell him it wasn’t really full yet. I still had some pages to go on with. Not that many, but enough for a few adventures. I could lie to him, say that I hadn’t reached even the middle of it. But he would know. He always knew. I could simply stay. And enjoy our time together.

But I wouldn’t be his Song.

So I decided that I owed him my truth. I owned him to keep being myself and remember him that even if we couldn’t be together, not all the time, I was still his. His wife. His love. His happily ever after.

Because after all, it didn’t mean it would last forever. It just meant it would last.

 

***

 

I had a way out. At least for tonight.

I wouldn’t lose our last few days together until we met again crying over the fact her journal was running out of pages. Her journal was still running out of pages. It wasn’t done yet. The Singing Towers were still far away. I had to stop being so… so human, and begin thinking rationally. She was there. She was still there. With me. So I was going to make the most of it.

I turned back, getting face to face with her and smiling. “Choose something we can do outside. A healthy outside activity. And I choose the place. Go.” She seemed confused for a moment, the whole sad moment broken by his sudden profusion of happiness. “Picnic” She managed to say between her teeth, trying to understand. “Great, now go dress. We will be there in a moment…” She goes upstairs again, looking over her shoulders every three steps, clearly, hell confused by my sudden change.

The Tardis landed exactly where I had planned (thanks for obeying at least this time, Sexy), and I opened the door, pulling Song by her hand. She had a full smile on her face as she looked confused around, and then at me as if I was about to explain to her where we were. We were somewhere with the perfect view for the events ahead of us, not habited by a single rational soul. I take the picnic basket, opening it and placing the large cloth on the floor. I put the basket on the corner of the cloth and sit down, offering my hand for her to do the same. I pull her by her hand and smile, pointing at the sky.

“We are exactly 4 billion years A.C. like you humans love to say. At the collision of Milk Way and Andromeda. And the birth of the new Lactomeda. This is the only collision known in history where not one single planet collides, the two galaxies just become one, with no harm. That’s why I like to call it dating, other than collision.” I say with a laugh, looking at her. “I like to think we are like them. I always think about you when I visit Milk Way and Andromeda dating.”

But she doesn’t allow me to say anything else. Before I can pull myself together, she is kissing my lips, her hands around my neck as she pulls her body closer to mine. My hands slip to her waist, as I hold her in place, her pretty black dress suddenly not that nice anymore. Oh fuck. I wanted to bed her, I feared failure and I were more worried about her than with myself. If Shakespeare could see me now, he would have laughed.

I feel my hands moving to unzip the dress on her back, her small squirms against my body. I don’t know exactly what I was searching for with that date, but now that she had begun, I couldn’t stop moving my hands against her body. I feel her pulling my bow tie as if it was nothing and beginning to unbutton my shirt. Sooner than I have presumed, her hands are opening it and slipping them by my arms, while kissing my lips with a hunger I had never seen her had. I am trying to keep up with her hands and her lips, but this is the Song effect over me: I get stupid. I allow her to do everything and anything she wants because I feel like I was made to pleasure her.

She moaned softly, pushing me down to lay on the cloth while giving that wicked smile she always wore on her face when she had a plan. Her hands continued to travel by my chest, caressing softly my skin, stopping where my hearts were beating. I took a deep breath, slipping my fingers into her skin until I reached her shoulders. I took the edges of her black dress and pulled them up, exposing her perky breasts, and the matching black panties. But as soon as her arms were free from the dress, she was already moving her hands on my pants, unzipping and unbuttoning them, and pulling them slightly down, but not enough to pull them by my legs.

“You little Dalek…” I tell her in a sweet tone, intertwining my hands on her hair and pulling my mouth close to hers, and we kiss as we always do: passionate and intimate. Her hands quickly found the edge of his underwear and pulled it down, taking my cock into her hands. I felt like dying. No, like exploding. There was no collision happening in the sky above us, but inside of me… it felt like everything was collapsing. Her hands, up and down on me. It was simply too much.

In my rusky tone, I pushed her from me and smiled, licking my lips as I stared into her brown delicious eyes. “Stop torturing me.” I demand, for what she just laughs. When I say she is a little Dalek, she indeed is. Not even the race that was supposed to cause my ultimate destruction makes me feel this frustrated. “Okay, sweetie…” She whispers against my ear, allowing me to pull her panties to the side as she holds my cock. She places the tip at the entrance of her pussy and chuckles. She stares at me, in the mix of innocence, courage and complete control over me, and sinks myself inside of her.

If I may sound a little bit like profaning what humans consider religion, I would say heaven is the feeling to stay inside of her.

She doesn’t even give me time to breathe and get used to that feeling that always gets me by surprise. She is soon bouncing on top of me, one of my hands holding her by her hair while the other grabs her ass and try to make her move even more. Or at least I think it does. It’s difficult to know when I am trying to do so, and she is also bouncing on top of me. Her breasts are moving so close, and I can’t resist pulling her hair until I can taste her nipples.

It makes her move erratically. I can see one of her hands leaving my chest, where she was sustaining herself, and beginning to play with her clit. I move my hips a little bit more, hitting her right where I knew she loved. It doesn’t take long for her to begin to squirm in that way that makes her close her eyes and smile, moving her hips without all the calculations she likes to do in the beginning of sex. Obviously, I fail at holding myself, and I end up cumming inside of her.

I don’t take myself from inside of her. I pull her down to lay on my chest, taking her hair from her forehead as she seems to catch her breath. Suddenly, she moves and raises her head, looking at me. “We will have to come back, I just could see the beginning of the collision, sweetie…” She says in her cocky tone, smiling at me as she cuddles against my body. I smile back, placing my arms around her and feeling her close to me. “I can’t even imagine why.”


End file.
